


Hestia

by peppermintquartz



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Oneshot, Post S3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 01:02:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5519711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppermintquartz/pseuds/peppermintquartz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Do everything with care, Chiyoh-kun. That is how you know you are doing things with all your heart.</em><br/>Their first Christmas together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hestia

Chiyoh sets the table with care. She does everything with care - this is what she was taught by the Lady, and this is her discipline.

_Do everything with care, Chiyoh-kun. That is how you know you are doing things with all your heart._

The little seaside house has been decorated for the season. Garlands of light go around the eaves of the roof, and there’s a wreath on the door. There is a Christmas tree in a stand by the corner, its fairy lights twinkling like tiny stars caught on a wire. The baubles are simple things, nothing fancy: the color theme is red, gold, and white. The tree is topped with a little blonde angel with gauze wings and a starry halo that twinkles. Two triple-A batteries, not included.

Beneath the tree are six presents. Two for each of them. Chiyoh bought her selections off Amazon. Crowds: unruly, ill-disciplined, noisy, pushing, shoving crowds of people still unnerve her.

Those that are Chiyoh’s are wrapped in white and gold. She has never opened a Christmas present before, and wonders if she is supposed to unwrap them in the open or bring them to her room to do so.

When the table is set, she lights the candles and turns off the lights in the dining room.

The house is not very big. Three bedrooms, two and half baths. She bought it, under her assumed name: Gozen Tomoe.

It had amused Hannibal when he heard that. 

Chiyoh’s room is further to the back, near the kitchen. Hers is the master bedroom with its ensuite. The men have rooms beside each other, and they share one bathroom. She isn’t quite sure how it works between them. One is furnished as a study, with a single bed in it. The other is furnished as a bedroom, but there’s a work desk and far too many files and folders stacked haphazardly on the shelves next to the desk.

They don’t really need to work. Chiyoh has sold a handful of antique jewelry pieces from the Lecter estate, and that guarantees them some financial stability, as long as they live a more austere lifestyle than what Hannibal is used to.

She hunts, infrequently. Will fishes nearly everyday. Hannibal has taken charge of growing their greens in the little sunroom on the side of the house. They live simply. They’re still trying to navigate their new dynamic, and it has only been months since they were fished from the sea and certain death.

They are finding their footing in this new life.

*****

Hannibal is in the kitchen, as expected. He is putting the finishing touches on their meal, and finishes off a plate with a flourish.

Chiyoh nods at him. Hannibal as he is now is not the Hannibal she learned from when she was younger, and not the Hannibal the Lady told her about. She is still learning him. When she saw him captured by the police, he had been resigned, a mighty beast striding to its doom with its head held high. These days, he is freer, more relaxed, sometimes playful.

Chiyoh doesn’t know what to do with playful.

“Ah, perfect timing,” Hannibal says with a smile. “What do you think, Chiyoh?”

He holds up the plate. It is a bird’s wing, arranged from delicate slices of _tai_ and _otoro_ . Shredded _daikon_ and pickled ginger are artfully placed, and Hannibal has used _ikuro_ to add color. He has been to the markets and splurged on the ingredients, but it is supposed to be a feast, so she doesn’t comment on the cost.

“Not very festive,” she says, “but pretty, all the same.”

Hannibal lowers the plate and smiles. “I shall take that as the praise you so reluctantly give. Please get Will; I will finish plating in a moment.”

*****

Will is on the porch, throwing an old rubber bone for the stray dog that roams this area of the beach. Sometimes they feed it. Sometimes they don’t.

Hannibal has asked Will if he wants to adopt the stray. Will said there was no need.

Chiyoh thinks it’s because they may have to leave at a moment’s notice, and WIll doesn’t want to leave a member of their family behind.

“Hello,” says Will, not looking at Chiyoh as she approaches on near-soundless feet.

“Dinner’s ready,” she says.

The dog runs back and drops the bone, panting happily. It’s a scruffy little thing, a terrier mix of some sort, with sandy fur and one perked up ear; the other looks like it was badly chewed-up. Will scratches behind the chewed-up ear and throws the bone. The dog races after it.

“I’ll be in shortly.”

“It’s sashimi. The plate needs to be cold.”

“Two minutes.”

*****

They don’t usually dress for dinner. Injuries make it hard to keep changing in and out of clothes, just for a meal. In fact, the first month, Chiyoh served them their meals in their beds.

Tonight they do dress for dinner.

Chiyoh is in a kimono-style dress. The pattern of cranes on an emerald background is elegant, and it reminds her a little of the home she left when she was a child. Sometimes she and Hannibal speak Japanese to each other, and those are the times she feels most at ease with him, because she had spoken Japanese with the Lady. He doesn't teach her to identify scents any more; he teaches her about glazing meat and preparing tomato roses.

Will is in a simple gray shirt and darker gray sports coat. The scar on his forehead is more obvious than the one in his cheek. Chiyoh remembers suturing that under Hannibal’s guidance. That wound, and the one in his thigh, and then Hannibal’s bullet wound. Her hands did not shake then, but she had thrown up a few times after that, over the side of the boat. Even now, the feel of blood under her hands make her want to scream.

Conversation is light, almost jovial; Hannibal is commenting on the lack of snow in various parts of the world, Will talks about the activities he used to do in the winters of his childhood, and Chiyoh listens and observes.

The way their eyes met and the way the corners of Hannibal’s eyes crinkle with good humor, the subtle but unmistakable smile hovering like a ghost on Will’s lips, the unconscious way they bend towards each other like sunflowers seeking the sun.

Sometimes they sit in front of the fire, quiet and contemplative, some whiskey and music. Sometimes they stand on the porch, shoulder to shoulder, watching the sunset.

Chiyoh never interrupts these moments. Her role is to take care of them, to make sure the beast is caged.

Perhaps to make sure the beasts are caged, both of them.

They could have her out of the way easily. Send her away or kill her. Yet they have her there, a third member of their little household. Some sort of balance to whatever madness has them in thrall to the other.

*****

They finish the meal and Hannibal ushers them to the living room, to the tree.

“Happy Christmas,” he says, and kisses Chiyoh on the cheek.

She does not shiver from the contact. This is the first time he has ever done that.

Will pours wine for them all. “You don’t celebrate Christmas.”

“No, but I like giving presents.” Hannibal takes the glass from Will after Chiyoh has taken hers. His fingers brush Will’s and he smiles at the younger man. “I enjoy being generous.”

“A giver of fine gifts.” Will sips his wine. “Go on, Chiyoh. Let’s see what Hannibal has bought you.”

A gold necklace with a diamond pendant, and the other a formal _obi_ sash for her formal kimono that she has not worn since she was fifteen. Chiyoh folds the wrapping paper and sets them aside neatly. “Thank you both.”

Will tears open his with less regard for the paper. His presents are wrapped in blue and tied with silver ribbon. One is a book on surf fishing and the other a pair of oven mitts with a pattern of paw prints. He snorts. “I am not learning to cook while we have you, Hannibal.”

“Who says I bought that?”

“Chiyoh isn’t as frivolous,” Will retorts, and touches Hannibal on the cheek, his fingers dusting over the smile on the older man’s face. She sees the quick delight on Hannibal’s face and feels warm inside.

Hannibal gets a new sketchbook and from Chiyoh, a selection of Bach pieces performed by the harpsichordist Wanda Landowska. The older man thanks Chiyoh for the thoughtful present and puts the music on.

What emerges from the player is delicate and intricate beauty.

They listen to the entire CD in silence. Then Hannibal clears the dining table, Will washes up, and Chiyoh tidies away the mess of wrapping paper and ribbons in the living room. When the men return, they have another bottle of wine.

Citing fatigue, Chiyoh excuses herself to her bedroom. After she has changed and washed up, when she goes to the kitchen for a drink of water, she sees the two men dancing slowly, their eyes closed. Every sway of their bodies, every motion is careful and carefree. Bending and yielding, supporting and relying.

There is no music but for the distant crash of waves on the beach, and the quiet crackle of wood burning in the fireplace.

Chiyoh smiles and returns to her room. Carefully, she puts away the gifts. Tomorrow they can drive to town to look at the lights. Perhaps that can become a ritual for them.

_Do everything with care, Chiyoh-kun. That is how you know you are doing things with all your heart._


End file.
